


And Your Spirits Rise

by McBangle



Series: McBangle's Check, Please Halloween 2016 [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (it's Jenny & Mandy), Fluff, Ghosts, Halloween, Humor, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Sexual Harassment, by ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McBangle/pseuds/McBangle
Summary: When Ransom tells Holster about the flirty messages someone has been leaving for him on the steamed-up bathroom mirror, Ransom and Holster arrive at two very different conclusions about who is leaving these messages and why, and they separately set out to discover the truth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 13 Days of Halloween, October 22: A ghost story.
> 
> I jotted down my ideas for this fic several weeks ago, and it got a bit Jossed by the latest update. That’s what I get for waiting too long before starting writing! Let’s just say this is set in October 2015, sometime between 3.5 and 3.11.

“Shit!” Ransom ran into the attic, clutching his towel about his waist with one hand.

“Bro.” Holster looked up from his book, willing his gaze to stay on Ransom’s face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I… I did.” Ransom skimmed his hand over his hair. “Fuck, I mean… I saw… I saw a message from the Haus ghosts.”

“Rans. The ghosts aren’t real; you know that, right?” Holster scoffed. “I only tease you about them because it’s funny to watch you get so worked up over it.”

Ransom shook his head over and over. “The ghosts are real. They’re _real_. You don’t know what it’s like, Holtzy. They’ve been haunting me for three years, and it’s _always_ worse this time of year. They’re real.”

Holster sighed. “What was it this time?”

Ransom took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he sunk onto Holster’s bunk. “I was in the shower. Nothing out of the ordinary when I got in the bathroom. Nobody else was in there the whole time I was showering. I got out of the shower, and there was a message written in the steam on the mirror.”

Holster laughed skeptically. “That’s no ghost. It’s an old prank. Write a message on a mirror with rubbing alcohol. It’s invisible until the room steams up, and then a secret message ‘mysteriously’ appears. One of the boys was trying to scare you.”

“No… no…” Ransom put his head in his hands. “They wouldn’t write this kind of message. ‘UR a cutie with a bootie.’ ‘Shake it.’ ‘Hot stuff.’ Why would they…”

Holster’s eyes widened in dawning realization. “One of the boys has a crush on Rans,” he whispered.

Ransom’s eyes widened in dawning realization. “The ghosts have a crush on me,” he whispered.

“What?” Both men asked in unison, turning to face each other momentarily before shaking their heads and looking away. “Nothing.”

\--------------------------------------------------

“Heeeeeeeey, Bitty.” Holster sidled up to Bitty in the kitchen. “How’s it going?”

Bitty wiped his hands on his apron. “Well, goodness, Adam, what brings me the pleasure of your company?” He smiled fondly at Holster. “The first batch of mini pies should be cooled in just a few minutes. I made apple today!”

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a heart to heart. What kind of captain would I be if I didn’t check in with my teammates on a regular basis?” Holster cupped his chin in his hand and nodded contemplatively. “For instance – oh, I don’t know… I haven’t seen you go on any dates all semester. Isn’t there anyone you’re interested in?”

Bitty cleared his throat and straightened the mini pies on the cooling rack. “Me?” he squeaked. “Interested in anyone? Oh no. No no no no no.”

“Well, then, I’ll set you up with someone.” Holster shifted from side to side.

“You don’t have to.”  Bitty flapped his hand in the air, as if swatting the idea away.

“It’s my pleasure,” Holster protested. “Nay, dare I say it, it’s my _obligation_ as your captain. What’s your type?”

“My type?” Bitty laughed nervously. “Oh, I don’t have a type.”

“Please, everyone has a type.”

“Oh, you know…” Bitty glanced about the kitchen, wild-eyed. “I’m not picky. I suppose… if I had to choose… I’d probably want someone with similar interests to mine. That’s always important. And someone nice. Thoughtful. And,” he added, his eyes softening and a smile playing about his lips, “tall is nice. With big strong arms to hold me. And Lord,” he sighed, “I do like dark hair.”

Holster’s spine straightened. “Dark hair? Tall? Strong? Similar interests? Maybe someone… athletic?” His voice broke on the second-to-last syllable.

“Yes,” Bitty sighed dreamily. “Athletic, tall, dark, and handsome with beautiful blue eyes.”

Relief flooded unaccountably into Holster. “Blue eyes? Did you say blue? Not brown, you prefer blue?”

Bitty jumped and made a small squeaking noise. “Did I say blue? I mean… I wouldn’t say I _prefer_ blue. That is…”

Holster whacked Bitty on the back hard enough to knock the air out of him, then kissed him on the top of the head. “Blue eyes! Perfect! You’ll find the right guy, Bitty. I’ll find him for you. Someone with blue eyes! Not brown! Bitty likes blue eyes!” He chuckled to himself on his way out the door.

Bitty stood in shock for a moment, twisting his hands in his apron before shaking his head. “Well what in the world…” he muttered before raising his voice. “You didn’t even take a mini pie!”

Holster jogged back into the kitchen, grabbing a mini pie in each hand before jogging back out. “Thanks, bro!”

\--------------------------------------------------

Ransom had it all plotted out. Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2 PM were the perfect time for experimentation. Holster had Applied Microeconomics, Bitty was in Kitchen Chemistry, Lardo had art studio time, and Farmer had volleyball practice so Chowder could be relied upon to be on the sidelines. The Haus was empty.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure. “Hello? Anybody? Anybody home?” He walked up and down the halls, poking his head into rooms. “Holster? You here?” he called up the stairs.

He was well and truly alone.

“I guess I’m all alone!” he shouted, much more loudly than was strictly necessary, pulling out the equipment that he had stashed behind the couch for just this purpose. “This feels like a good time for a workout!”

Ransom felt a certain static in the air as he picked up the dumbbells. Almost as if he’d attracted the attention of something… or some _one_.

He took it easy at first, starting with some basic arm curls. As he transitioned into his best bodybuilder poses, he sensed a distinct presence off to his side… maybe two.

“Phew! This workout is making me sweaty!” he announced to thin air, whipping off his shirt.

He could have _sworn_ he heard a giggle!

\--------------------------------------------------

“Heeeeeeeey, Chowder.” Holster swung around the open door to Chowder’s room, hanging off the doorframe by one hand. The frame creaked from the burden of supporting his not-inconsiderable weight.

Chowder looked nervously from Holster’s hand to Holster’s expectant face. “Come in, Holster, sit down! (Please don’t break my door.)”

Holster pulled the chair out from Chowder’s desk and swung one leg around so he was seated backwards, resting his arms on the chair back. “Chowder, my man. We haven’t touched base in a while. How’s it going with Farmer?”

Chowder’s face lit up. “Sooooooooo good, thank you for asking! She’s just so…” He sighed dreamily. “And things are just…” He hugged himself, scrunching his face up in delight. “I just love her so much, you know?”

“That’s great, that’s great,” Holster nodded his head. “So… hypothetically… you know… if you had to pick a guy…”

“Why would I have to pick a guy?”

“Oh, you know. If you were bi. Everybody’s a little bit bi, aren’t they?”

Chowder cocked his head.

“So, like, gun to the head,” Holster continued. “If you had to pick a guy… like… I don’t know… one of the guys on the team… who would you go for?”

Chowder stared at him for just a beat too long.

“Ummm… Holster, you know, you’re a very attractive man. And a great co-captain! I mean really, almost as good as Jack Zimmermann, I mean no one’s as good as Jack Zimmermann but really, you and Ransom are _almost_ as good as Jack Zimmermann but… um… Caitlin and I are in a committed relationship.”

\--------------------------------------------------

Thursday afternoon meant time for further investigation.

Ransom stretched his arms exaggeratedly. “Wow! I really worked out my arms the other day!” he announced to the empty Haus. “Today I think I’ll work on my glutes!”

The back of his neck prickled as all of hairs stood up at once. He’d drawn their attention.

“This seems like a good day for lunges!” he picked up his dumbbells and started his first set of walking lunges, feeling a palpable excitement in the air. He was positive the ghosts were watching him, but he still wasn’t sure that he’d proven his hypothesis. He might just have to take even more extreme measures.

“Oh, my!” he shouted. “Is my shoelace untied?” It wasn’t. He bent into a deep toe touch and shimmied his butt in the air… and there was all the proof he needed.

He had definitely felt someone grab his butt!

Ransom yelped and jumped upright. “Hey! No touching!”

FWUMP!

Something had fallen in the kitchen. Ransom’s heart raced as he pushed the kitchen door open.

A bag of flour lay on the floor, its contents spilled on the linoleum.

As he watched, letters began to appear in the flour:

       U TEASE

Ransom backpedaled out of the Haus as fast as he could. This might call for a different tactic. He’d find a way to explain the flour to Bitty later.

\--------------------------------------------------

Holster paced the hall.

Should he go in?

No. No, no. Don’t be ridiculous, Adam.

But…

He’d checked on everybody else and this was the only remaining possibility.

But…

No, no, it was preposterous.

But…

Didn’t somebody once say that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?

All right, he was going in.

But…

Sweet Rose Nylund, how she would chirp him if he was wrong!

“Are you coming in?” Lardo’s voice called out.

“Heeeeeeeey, Lards.” Holster poked his head sheepishly into the room.

“’Sup.” Lardo sat cross legged on her bed, bent over an art history textbook.

“Soooo… how’s it going?” Holster leaned against her armoire and crossed his ankles in an awkwardly uncomfortable attempt at jaunty casualness.

“Fine.” She didn’t even spare him a glance before flipping a page in her book.

“I haven’t seen you around much lately. What’s up, girl?”

Lardo shot him an exasperated look. “We live together. I’m the manager and you’re co-captain of the hockey team. We literally see each other all the time.”

Holster cleared his throat and plunged on. “Are there any guys you’re interested in?”

She turned back to her book. “Nope, we’re not talking about that.” After a moment, she glanced up again. “Unless _you_ want to talk about a guy.”

Holster’s elbow slipped off the armoire, and he barely caught himself before falling. “What? Me? No. I’m a free agent, you know how it is. Single and ready to mingle, that’s me. Uh… which guy are we talking about?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck.” Holster slumped against the wall. “I’m in love with Rans, aren’t I?”

\--------------------------------------------------

“It’s nice to see a student taking an interest in Samwell history.” The elderly librarian smiled tenderly at Ransom as she placed two large bound copies of the Daily in his study carrel. “I have 1992 and 1993 here for you, dear. I’ll come back with 1990 through 1991 in a few minutes.”

Ransom had been reading his way backwards through Samwell history all day, attempting to find information about how the Haus Ghosts had died. After he’d read his way through the Daily’s and the Swallow’s online archives, he’d relocated to Founder's to pore over back issues of the Daily. Who knew the library had copies of the Daily dating all the way back to Volume 1, Issue 1 in 1924?

As expected, there’d been no mention of any mysterious deaths in the Haus during the entire time that SMH had been living there. He was certain that Shitty would have regaled the entire team with stories all about it if someone had died in the Haus while the hockey team was living there. There was, however, a lot of juicy information about the history of SMH, including a particularly chirp-worthy picture of a young Shitty and a shaggy-haired Jack as frogs that he’d made sure to download to his laptop.

Perusing the bound copies of the Daily had not been nearly as productive. There had been a whole decade with no mention of the Haus, and with SMH discussed only on the sports pages.

Ransom was just about to throw in the towel when he turned a yellowing page to find a quarter-page photo of two cute girls, one blonde and one Asian, under the headline:

**IN MEMORIAM**

**JENNY BOSWELL AND MANDY TSAI, 1975 – 1993**

Samwell University mourns the loss of Jenny Boswell and Mandy Tsai, formerly of Samwell class of ’97. The two freshwomen tragically lost their lives this past weekend at a rush event at the Theta Alpha Theta house. ΘAΘ is close-lipped about the circumstances of their deaths, however rumors are circulating on campus of an overcrowded house and a stampede after police arrived in response to noise complaints. Local police could not be reached for comment.

Jenny and Mandy will be deeply missed by friends and classmates alike. Both girls were known for being bubbly and outgoing. “[Jenny] was so young and full of life,” Boswell’s roommate, Katie McGowan, Samwell class of ’97, told the Daily. “Mandy always knew the best parties and the cutest boys,” Sara Garcia, Samwell class of ’98 reported.

ΘAΘ has issued a statement that, out of respect for the Boswell and Tsai families, the sorority will vacate the house and relocate to new living quarters as soon as possible.

Funerals will be held this Saturday in Jenny’s and Mandy’s home towns of Waltham and Worcester, respectively. Anyone wishing to send flowers or donations may contact…

\--------------------------------------------------

Adam J. Birkholtz search history:

 

1:54 PM

Searched for “Somnographia”

 

1:53 PM

Visited “What is it called when you write in your sleep?” | Yahoo Answers

 

1:49 PM

Visited “Sleepwalking And Sleep Writing ??” – Sleep Disorders Forum

Searched for “sleep writing”

 

1:43 PM

Visited “Sleepwalking: Causes and How To Stop” – MedicineNet

 

1:42 PM

Visited “Sleep Walking / Talking” – Sleep Management Institute

 

1:41 PM

Visited “Sleepwalking Causes – Mayo Institute”

 

1:40 PM

Visited “Sleepwalking: Find Out About Treatment And Causes” – eMedicineHealth

Searched for “sleepwalking triggers”

 

1:38 PM

Visited “Sleepwalking: 10 things you’ll only know if you do it” – Marie Claire UK

 

1:35 PM

Visited “You Could Be A Sleepwalker And Not Know It” | Bottom Line Inc.

 

1:34 PM

Visited “Sleepwalking Symptoms, Treatments, Causes – What are symptoms …”

Searched “how to tell if you sleepwalk”

 

1:32 PM

Visited “What are the chances that you sleepwalk” – Gotoquiz

Searched “do I sleepwalk quiz”

 

1:30 PM

Visited “Adult sleepwalking is a serious condition that impacts health-related …”

 

1:27 PM

Visited “Why do people sleepwalk?” – Howstuffworks

Searched for “do I sleepwalk?”

 

1:22 PM

Visited “Mirror Facing the Bed is Bad Feng Shui and Creepy” – Feng Shui Nexus

Searched for “could I have written on a mirror in my sleep?”

 

11:38 AM

Visited “33 Leslie Knope Quotes to Help You Live Your Best Life” – BuzzFeed

\--------------------------------------------------

“No!” Dex tossed his controller on the ground. The Rangers had just trounced the Bruins in NHL 16. _Again_. “Are you serious? Every time? I can’t catch a break!”

“Dex. Chill.” Nursey lounged back against the green couch, as if he hadn’t been aggressively crouched over his controller but moments earlier. “It’s just a game.”

“That’s easy for you to say when you manage to win every. Single. Time,” Dex snarled. “This game is clearly rigged against me.”

“It’s not rigged, Poindexter.” Nursey laughed. “You just aren’t playing it right. _I_  relax, have fun, and let the positive energy flow forth from my center to my fingers, while _you_ turn everything into a competition.”

“It _literally is_ a competition,” Dex countered.

“I don’t know about all y’all, but I am _famished_ ,” Bitty interrupted diplomatically. “Who’s ready for dinner?”

“Tonight’s chicken tenders night in the cafeteria,” Chowder offered.

“Chicken tenders?” Nursey raised an eyebrow at Dex, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth.

“Chicken tenders,” Dex agreed. He grasped Nursey’s forearm and hoisted him up to his feet. Chowder, Lardo and Holster all followed suit.

“Are you coming, Ransom?” Bitty looked apprehensively toward Ransom, still seated on the couch.

“I’ll join you guys later,” Ransom waved them off. “It’s my Auntie’s birthday and I promised her I’d call. Save me a chair.”

“Bro.” Lardo looked at him skeptically. “It’s _chicken tenders_ night. Your Auntie can wait until after dinner.”

“If Rans wants to call his Auntie, let him call her,” Holster defended him. Ransom would’ve thanked Holtzy for respecting his privacy, but he’d been acting weird all day. Distant and kind of nervous. He’d sat on the floor during Dex and Nursey’s video game instead of next to Ransom on the couch, and he wasn’t even making eye contact. Weird. They were definitely going to have to have a heart-to-heart soon.

Lardo simply shrugged as the rest of the team filed out of the Haus. “Your loss.”

As soon as the door shut behind the last of them, Ransom stood up and spun slowly about, projecting his voice so it could be heard in all corners of the house. “All right ladies, we need to talk about what happened yesterday.”

He _definitely_ heard a feminine “Hmpf.”

“Oh, you’re mad at me now? You touched my butt. I don’t know what it was like in the early Nineties, but non-consensual touching is _not OK_.”

He felt a stillness. They were listening.

“Listen,” his tone softened. “I did some research. I read all about the rush event. That must have been scary. And it must have been lonely, being stuck here in the Haus all those years after the sorority moved out and before the team moved in. Hell, it must _still_ be lonely, being surrounded by people who can’t see or hear you.”

Ransom felt suddenly overwhelmed by an intense, alien sadness.

“I don’t think you want to hurt me, do you?” he continued. “I _think_ you might actually like me. And that’s OK! We can all get along if we respect each other’s boundaries. You can look all you want, but I don’t want to be touched. Can you agree to that?”

The Haus was silent for a moment, and then he heard a soft clattering sound. His eyes roamed the room for its source before landing on the Jack Zimmermann and Alexei Mashkov bobble heads, nodding away on the TV stand. They had been motionless just moments before.

Ransom shivered. “Ohhhh-kaaaaaaay.” He cleared his throat. “I think we could be friends. In fact, I’d like that.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ve put together a playlist that I think you may like. I thought that maybe this evening instead of a workout, we could have a dance party.”

He thumbed the play button on his phone, and a poppy kind of a tinkling music kicked in.

He felt their joy as soon as the song started, building to a bodily wave of excitement when the weird British guy started singing. He could have sworn he even heard them singing, like an echo in the back of his mind. He would never have picked this song for himself, but their enthusiasm was so infectious that he found himself bopping along with them.

_I don’t care if Monday’s blue /_

_Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday too /_

_Thursday I don’t care about you /_

_It’s…_

\--------------------------------------------------

Holster walked into the bathroom that evening as Ransom was tightening the towel about his waist. “Bro. You let me nap for _way_ too long tonight…” He stopped in his tracks when he spotted the tell-tale markings on the bathroom mirror: a heart and a smiley face written in steam. He pointed at it with an unsteady finger.

“Rans? Did you write this on the mirror?”

Ransom laughed. “No, it was the ghosts again.”

Holster’s heart raced, panic rising in his chest. “Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit, it’s happened again!”

“Holtzy. It’s OK! I don’t mind anymore!” Ransom placed his hands on Holster’s wide shoulders and smiled gently at his friend.

Holster looked him pleadingly in the eyes. “You… don’t mind?”

“I’m not gonna lie, I was uncomfortable with it at first. But I did some research, and I’ve worked it all out. It’s OK! We’re friends.”

Holster swallowed. “And you aren’t bothered by the writing on the mirrors?”

Ransom ran a hand over his head and blushed. “Actually, it’s a bit flattering.”

“ _Justin_.” Holster grabbed Ransom’s face between his two hands and pulled him in for a kiss.

Ransom froze for the briefest of moments. Just as Holster was about to step back, Ransom surged forward, wrapping his arms around Holster’s neck, lips sliding against lips, and nothing mattered anymore. Or everything mattered, because everything in that moment was _right_. Everything was exactly the way it always should’ve been, in his best friend’s arms, making up for lost time.

\--------------------------------------------------

“Mandy… Mandy… Mandy!” Jenny smacked her friend’s shoulder repeatedly… as much as a ghostly hand can smack a ghostly shoulder.

“I see it, I see it!” Mandy squealed.

“His butt is almost as nice as Justin’s!” Jenny fanned herself. “How do they both have such nice butts?”

“How does _every boy in the Haus_ have such nice butts?” Mandy agreed enthusiastically.

“Touch his butt! Touch his butt!” Jenny bounced in the air.

“Touch his butt!!” Mandy joined in, turning it into a chant.

As if on cue, Ransom slid his hands down Holster’s butt and grabbed two large handfuls of ass.

“Yay!” Mandy high-fived Jenny. Haunting the Haus just got a lot more interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by [this Tumblr discussion](http://des-zimbits.tumblr.com/post/149682219136/wheeloffortune-design-gettzi-gettzi-now-i) of shipping Ransom with, among others, Jenny & Mandy.
> 
> All of the hits in Holster's search history are real, and were active at least as of mid-October, 2016 (I cannot vouch as to whether they were all online in October 2015, but let's just pretend that they were).
> 
> The title comes from “Friday I’m in Love” by The Cure, which is also the song that Ransom plays for the dance party. The opinions expressed here regarding Robert Smith are Ransom’s own and do not reflect the views of the author!
> 
> Much love and a thousand thanks to [Ellipsical](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellipsical/pseuds/Ellipsical) for the beta assist!


End file.
